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In this memoir, Bradlee emerges unapologetically as a cheerful white male born into the power elite, not particularly reflective but aware of his abilities, particularly his aptitude for recognizing talent in others and his willingness to make decisions. Work and ambition were central to his life, even costing him two marriages - although neither marriage ended until the next wife was waiting in the wings.
Bradlee is a reporter rather than a storyteller and the first third of his memoir is guaranteed to irritate those for whom Harvard was not a given and who can't conceive of "scrounging" up $10,000 (in 1946!) to invest in a start-up for a first job in newspapering, in Manchester, N.H.
Given his family and contacts and, yes, hard work, Bradlee's jobs were all interesting but the meat and excitement of the book begin with his friendship with John F. Kennedy. The Bradlees and the Kennedys became Washington neighbors while Kennedy was a senator, Bradlee was beginning to break "out of the herd" at Newsweek magazine and Jackie and Tony Bradlee were pregnant.
As the "foursome" spent many social hours together, the line between friendship, politics, and the big scoop, blurred. Bradlee relates a number of amusing anecdotes, best among them an exclusive on the swap of U-2 pilot Francis Gary Powers, "sourced from the President of the United States, [dictated] from a telephone just off a White House dance floor." Heady moments indeed.
Then came the assassination. Friendship and profession crashed head-on. And a few months later Bradlee's sister-in-law, Mary Meyer, was murdered. The CIA came looking for her diary. When Bradlee and his wife found it they were shocked to learn Meyer had been conducting a two-year love affair with Kennedy. Interestingly, Bradlee does not speculate on conspiracy theories, with regard to JFK or Mary Meyer.
But Bradlee is sparing with personal detail - incidents aplenty but not a lot of insight. His portrait of Jackie is most poignant for being so sketchy. Her deeply private nature baffled Bradlee and made him nervous. Their friendship faded after the assassination and Jackie never spoke to Bradlee again after he published Conversations With Kennedy in 1975. To this reader it seems obvious that Jackie was deeply offended by Bradlee's exploitation of their private moments but this never seems to occur to him.
However, this nonreflective quality can be valuable in a newspaperman. When the Vietnam war was raging, when his own wife was marching in protest, Bradlee's concern was good stories. "I concentrated on trying to discover what was going on in Vietnam, on trying to determine who was telling the truth about Vietnam, before it occurred to me to find out where I stood myself." New at the helm of the Post, Bradlee wanted "a new Hemingway ...who could explain the drama...in terms of the young soldiers." He found Ward Just.
In addition to assembling a maverick team of "new" journalists in the mid-60s, Bradlee was tireless in improving the production end of the newspaper. And he knew when to sink his teeth into a story and hang on. Watergate is the high point. It came at just the right time for the Post. Bradlee's position was consolidated, his ground work on talent and organization completed.
Bradlee captures the adrenaline-filled days of relentless reporters and the dogged quality the Post encouraged in them. For almost a year the paper was virtually alone in its pursuit of the story, until James McCord's damning admissions vindicated the Post. Gleefully, Bradlee includes scathing personal attacks on him and the Post by Bob Dole, Chuck Colson and prominent republicans everywhere. When a new piece of the puzzle fell into place, "Just the recollection of that discovery makes my heart beat faster, two decades later." And, of course, "People in the know, people in power, were already speaking of The New York Times and The Washington Post in the same breath...."
If this was the high, Janet Cooke's Pulitzer Prize winning story of an 8-year-old heroin adict that turned out to be fiction (1981) was the low. Bradlee explores this debacle as openly as he does the happier lessons of Watergate. Race certainly played its part.
Bradlee, running a major newspaper in a city with a 70 percent black population, had never known a black person, save a Haitian Frenchman in Paris. And he was surrounded by a similarly insulated group of connected white males. "Female Phi Beta Kappa graduates of Seven Sisters colleges who can write the King's English with style don't grown on trees...."
No kidding. But actually Cooke had never graduated from Vassar, much less with honors. The Brahmin background that propelled Bradlee's career from prep school on served him poorly when it came time to include some of the hoi poloi in the editorial mix.
Whatever his faults, Bradlee comes across as scrupulously honest. He doesn't give away any big secrets - you won't discover the identity of Deep Throat, for instance, but "The Good Life," chock full of our time's headiest moments, will fascinate anyone interested in the insider's view of current events and prominent people.
The next thing that makes A GOOD LIFE a wonderful read is that Bradlee not only has led the good life--his own definition--he's also led a fascinating one. By some quirk of fate, he was witness to many of the more exciting events in the second half of the 20th century, and he reports on these events in a way that will rivet his fans.
His description of his World War II naval career is as good as any other war memoir that I have read, and I have read quite a few.
Bradlee was lucky to lead his "good life." And reading about it makes for a fascinating experience.